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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25003516">Until You</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/niPhEnd/pseuds/niPhEnd'>niPhEnd</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Original Work</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Adorable dorkiness, Awkward Conversations, M/M, Romance</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 04:42:27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>7,004</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25003516</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/niPhEnd/pseuds/niPhEnd</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Connor Rogers, captain of the  Riverdale Mavericks high school football team, has never experienced love. He has trouble expressing himself physically, even going as far and rejecting people from touching him. It isn't until a new transfer student peeks his interest does he think he believes in love again.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Until You</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Rodgers, what the hell was that?! It’s a pitch not a handoff. A <em>pitch!</em>”</p>
<p>
  </p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>
    <span class="u"><br/>
</span>
  </p>
  <p>________________________________________</p>
</div><span class="u">
  <br/>
</span><p>“Rodgers, do I need to tape the fucking ball to your fingers?! Fumble like that in the next game and we’ll be a laughingstock!”</p>
<p>
  </p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>
    <span class="u"><br/>
</span>
  </p>
  <p>________________________________________</p>
</div><span class="u"></span><br/><p>“Son of a—TIME!”</p>
<p>We hear Coach’s yell before the sound of the whistle blares across the field. Everyone slowly comes to a stop, and some begin looking around to see who screwed up this time. I let out a breath and pop my mouth guard out of its position, absently chewing on it. It’s a habit I’ve developed when I feel like I’m getting unwanted attention. Which, right now, I certainly am. I can already feel a few of my teammates starring at the back of my helmet. I don’t have to look up to know Coach is watching me as well. But when I do, he waves his hand for me and I have to make the awkward trot across the field to the benches.</p>
<p>He has his arms crossed when I finally reach him, giving me that look like he’s trying to figure me out. I fucking hate it. No one my age ever gives me that look, but all the adults in my immediate circle seem to have picked up on this same habit. Nothing is wrong with me, and it drives me up a wall to think I have to prove that <em>every time.</em> Coach’s face falls into a frown. </p>
<p>“Something wrong, son?” he asks in that whisper coach voice that’s still too loud to be considered a whisper.</p>
<p>“No, sir,” I say, letting out a breath through my nose. “Just having a bad day.”</p>
<p>Coach goes very quiet and I feel a pit drop in my stomach. This man became like a second father to me since mine never seemed to be home, and he knew it. But that never stopped him from letting me have it when I was being a real nutcase. Kind of like right now. His heavy hand lands with a muffled thump on my shoulder.</p>
<p>“Why don’t you go home for today?” he says quietly.</p>
<p>I can practically imagine that pit in my stomach explode as my head snaps up to look at him, my eyes wide. “What?! No, Coach, I’m okay. Really!”</p>
<p>His hand squeezes my shoulder so hard I can feel the pinch of plastic against my skin through the padding. He leans in so close I can catch a whiff of the tuna sandwich he had for lunch.</p>
<p>“Connor,” he starts, his voice lowering to what seems like an actual whisper. “Talk to me. I know something’s on your mind.”</p>
<p>I feel my jaw tighten and I can’t meet Coach’s gaze, slowly turning my head away. A breakup isn’t something I’d normally lose my head over, and it’s not like it hasn’t happened right before practice before. But this is the first time I’ve initiated the breakup.</p>
<p>“Okay.” Coach sighs, taking my silence as his answer, and dropping his hand from my shoulder. “Martinez will take over for you. Just go home, relax, and try to reset your mind. I need my <em>captain</em> to be here mentally, not just physically.”</p>
<p>I let out a breath and take off my helmet, feeling coach give me an encouraging pat on the shoulder as he heads back to the field to run the next drill. The shrill sound of the whistle echoes in my ears as I pad down the long tunnel towards the locker rooms. I reach out my hand, running it along the stone once I know I’m deep enough that no one will see me. We think the stone is some kind of concrete—it would make the most sense—but no one has ever really looked into it, so we all just call it the mystery stone. </p>
<p>There have been many a story that stem from this hallway, plenty of athletes using the space for more… explicit activities. I’ve never seen a reason to myself. I’ve brought all kinds of partners down here, guys, girls, but none seem to last more than a week or two. It’s always the same reason. They say I’m too distant; that I never touch them; that I’m not affectionate enough. Unfortunately, it’s true. I’ve never felt a reason to be all “touchy-feely” with the partner’s I’ve had. It seemed to irritate me more than anything when they’d try clinging to me, asking for more. In a sense, I don’t like people touching me, pretty much in general.</p>
<p>That’s why I found my last breakup so hard to process. Sydney wasn’t like anyone I usually dated, and the last person I thought I’d see myself with. She was a typical girl when she was around her friends, liking makeup and gossip and boys, but she was so much different when I got her alone. Sydney would get really quiet and fidgety, like she was nervous around me. She had been the first person to respect that boundary I had, even though I knew she wanted to be more. I didn’t know why but it intrigued me, and I wanted to get to know her more.</p>
<p>I push open the main hallway door, heading into the long row of locker rooms. The sharp florescent lights make my eyes hurt and I can feel my vision darken as it tries to adjust from the bright sunlight to the dark hallway. I can’t see very well for a second and feel my shoulder knock against someone trying to pass me. </p>
<p>“Oh! Sorry!” I hear next to me and feel someone grab my arm. “Are you okay?”</p>
<p>I blink and look over, squinting slightly to try to see this person I bumped into. They have a round face and what I think is tanned skin and dark hair, but my eyes have yet to adjust so I can’t tell. The only thing that does register in my mind is that I’ve never seen this person before. And they’re currently grabbing my arm. Weirdly, I don’t feel the skin crawling sensation I normally do when someone touches me without asking.</p>
<p>Slowly pulling my arm from their grip, I put on a small smile and turn away. “I’m alright. No worries.”</p>
<p>From the corner of my eye it looks like they’re about to ask something else, but my feet seem to have a mind of their own. Puffing out another breath, I rub the back of my neck with a hand and nudge the football locker room door open enough to shuffle inside, putting needed distance between myself and the stranger. The breakup with Sydney swims back to the font my mind now that I don’t have practice, or the stranger, as a distraction. </p>
<p>She had seemed so genuine and kind. I thought meeting her had been too good to be true. Turns out it really was too good to be true. Sydney had shown her true colors around the third week we were dating. She changed. Turns out, her friends had put her up to a dare that if she could “catch” me they’d pay her ticket to their Florida trip for spring break.</p>
<p>I practically slam my helmet into the wooden locker at the thought. My breath coming in angry puffs through my nose.</p>
<p>Her attitude, the way she spoke to me, like it was obvious for her to be doing what she was doing, just made something snap in me. This was a person I thought I finally had a connection with. And she turned out to be no more than someone using me. I had ended it, right then and there.</p>
<p>I close my eyes, running a hand through my hair. Maybe Coach is right. If I want to still be a part of the team, I need to figure my shit out before tomorrow. I let out a breath and grab my towel, heading towards the showers
<span class="u"></span></p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>
    <span class="u">________________________________________</span>
  </p>
</div><p>The bell chimes, signaling the end of third period. Thank God. English has never been my best subject, and I’m starting to think it never will be. I quickly pack up my bag and scurry out of the classroom before I can get pulled aside by my teacher, joining the never-ending throng of students in the hallway.</p>
<p>“YO!! Connor!”</p>
<p>I turn and catch a glimpse of Jake out of the corner of my eye before he barrels into my side, nearly knocking me off my feet.</p>
<p>“Guh-!” I sputter, feeling my breath slip out of me. “Christ, Jake-”</p>
<p>“Hey, man,” he drawls without giving me a minute to respond, wrapping an arm around my shoulders and trying to pull me down to his level. Obviously having hard time doing it too. “Where’d you run off to yesterday? You missed some super fun pop off drills across the field.”</p>
<p>I can’t help but laugh hearing the sarcasm practically dripping from his voice. Jake is, and pretty much has been my best friend since diapers. He’s an exception to my no touching rule and he knows it. He also knows almost everything about me, and I know everything about him. Downside to that, we have zero tolerance for each other’s shit. And “skipping” practice counts for the shit list.</p>
<p>I push him off, quickly flipping our positions and wrapping him in a head lock. “What? Miss me so much you can’t handle one practice without me?” I coo tauntingly in his ear.</p>
<p>“Agh! Jerk, as if!” He grumbles and begins trying to pull his head out of my grip.</p>
<p>I can’t resist the urge and dig my knuckles into his scalp.</p>
<p>“Ow! OW! Alright, I give. You win!”</p>
<p>Jake gives a final shove to my arm and I let up, watching him spin away. He takes a second to readjust his long, blonde hair before sending a mild dirty look over to me. I know he’s not really mad and burst out laughing.</p>
<p>“Damn, Connor. Did you really have to go for the hair?” he asks with a smirk, giving my arm a light whack. “I worked hard on that this morning. I wanted to make a good impression.”</p>
<p>“Oh?” I raise a brow at him, a smirk quickly spreading over my face. “Who’s the lucky lady this time? Madeline? Ashley? No-no-no wait… it’s Sarah isn’t it.”</p>
<p>“Oh, fuck off.” He punches me again, this time not so lightly.</p>
<p>I laugh and sidestep away from him in case he tries to hit me again. In the action I have to circle around a group of girls talking amongst themselves. They stop and stare as I pass. I can practically feel their gazes boring into the side of my face and glue my eyes ahead of me. Their loud giggles and squeals echo over the sound of the rest of the students as I finally get past them and can feel the irritation bubbling under the surface of my skin, my brows pinching together. I’m about to turn back to Jake when I catch a familiar head of brown hair quickly walk past me, going in the opposite direction. In surprise I spin around, thinking they may have been the same person in the locker room yesterday. But they’re already long gone, lost in the crowd.</p>
<p>“Why don’t you talk to one of them?”</p>
<p>I start at Jake’s question and look down to see him standing next to me, thinking I’d been starring at the group of girls. “Huh? Uh, no. No, there was someone else there…”</p>
<p>I turn my gaze back to the crowd, seeing if I can spot that familiar brown hair again.</p>
<p>“Someone else?” Jake prompts, nudging my arm.</p>
<p>“There was…yesterday…"</p>
<p>I sigh and shake my head, turning back to Jake. From the look he has on his face I know I’m not getting away with just “there was someone there”. I tell Jake about everything that happened yesterday, breaking up with Sydney, Coach sending me home after screwing up at practice, and then running into the kid in the locker room hallway.</p>
<p>“I’ve never seen them before, but it was weird.” I say, turning my gaze to the ground and stuffing my hands in my pockets. “I’ve only ever felt comfortable with you and a couple of the guys hanging on to me. But with them… I dunno, it was just… strange.”</p>
<p>Jake hums and spins around, standing on his tip toes as he continues to pad backwards. I slow my pace, so I don’t end up walking away from him.</p>
<p>“You sure you don’t have a crush?” he asks, finally turning back around.</p>
<p>I frown, my face contorting in confusion. “You know I don’t get crushes.”</p>
<p>“What about Kate in third grade?” he counters.</p>
<p>“That was more of close friends than a crush...”</p>
<p>“And Michael in seventh?”</p>
<p>“I was his supposed safe option for his ‘coming out’ relationship.”</p>
<p>“What about all the people you’ve dated here?” Jake frowns at me. “C’mon, you didn’t like any of them?”</p>
<p>I pause and look over at him.</p>
<p>“Sydney doesn’t count,” he quickly adds.</p>
<p>I let out a small chuckle and shake my head, dropping my gaze back to the floor. “Nah, they all came to <em>me.</em> Sure, some of them were real nice, and I thought we could work. But there was always the…”</p>
<p>“No touching thing?” Jake finishes for me.</p>
<p>I nod. “Yeah, that.”</p>
<p>“So, what’s the difference with this kid?” Jake continues. “You said they grabbed you, and you didn’t get the weird heebie-jeebies?”</p>
<p>“Yeah, I didn’t. It was really odd. I don’t know how to describe it…”</p>
<p>Jake pauses. “You sure you’re not, like, ace or something?”</p>
<p>I throw a look at him, but instead of answering I shove him in the shoulder. Truth is, I don’t know if I'm asexual or not. And the more time that passes like this, I’m afraid I might be.</p>
<p>We both get quiet as we walk down the hall. Jake and I have sync’d our schedules with a couple of our teammates to all have fifth period study at the same time. Typically, fifth period is a class and lunch period combined, but with the class being study, we all managed to get the full period off. So, it’s the perfect opportunity to do whatever we want for a full hour and a half.</p>
<p>“Oh, shoot this is me.” I walk over to the side of the hallway a few feet away from Mr. Johnson’s physics classroom, Jake following absently behind me.</p>
<p>“Shit, you got Mr. Jackass?” Jake visibly contorts, his face scrunching up in distaste. “How’d you end up with that one?”</p>
<p>“Ha ha. He’s not that bad, he just hates you guys.” I say, giving Jake a hard, playful shove. “He’s actually pretty chill with us.”</p>
<p>“Yeah, cause you’re the freaking smart AP kids, that’s why.”</p>
<p>I laugh. “It’s because we do our work. Unlike most other classes.”</p>
<p>“We do our work!” Jake protests meekly. “Sometimes...”</p>
<p>“Exactly my point.”</p>
<p>“Whatever, man.” Jake shakes his head and steps back out into the stream of people. “I gotta run. Ms. Hyde is nearly across the building from here.”</p>
<p>“Yeah, you don’t need another reason for her to hate you.” I smirk.</p>
<p>Jake laughs and waves his hand, dismissing the comment. “You kiddin’? she adores me.” He calls as he pads away.</p>
<p>“The bleachers for lunch!” I raise my voice, calling after him</p>
<p>I simply get a raised thumbs up from Jake before he vanishes in the crowd. Letting out a chuckle, I shake my head and push open the door to Mr. Johnson’s classroom.
<span class="u"></span></p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>
    <span class="u">________________________________________</span>
  </p>
</div><p>We wandered around the building after lunch. It was an odd feeling at first for me. Without the normal hustle and bustle of students in the hallway it really made the space feel bigger than it was, and the quiet was almost eerie. It was almost unnerving the first time we could do this, and no one stopped us.</p>
<p>“Hey, I’m gonna head.” I say when we come to stop on the entrance balcony.</p>
<p>The guys don’t question it at this point and Jake gives me a knowing look before grasping my hand in a casual goodbye. I always like to slip away when the period is almost over and head down to my next class a little early.</p>
<p>I have gym next period and the hallway down to the normal locker rooms is always pretty empty until the bell rings. They’re not like the athletic locker rooms, which are located in a small space under the stadium and always have a least one person wandering around. These hallways are quiet, isolated from the rest of the building tucked in their own little corner.</p>
<p>Unlike the main hallways, I like this quiet. It’s kind of like a mini chance to hit the reset button once a day. I get the time to just be with myself and my music before the chaos begins again.</p>
<p>I pad into the locker room, still unlocked from the lunch class that’s outside. It’s like any locker room you can imagine. Grey tile floors, white paneled ceiling, and a perimeter of blue stacked lockers with a few rows in the middle. Of course, I have a designated locker in this area like everyone else, but I barely use it. For athletes, these lockers are really only used if you have friends in the class so you can talk with them. But if you don’t—like me—and you’re an athlete, there’s a separate area for just that purpose.</p>
<p>I wander to the wide, designated metal door in the back of the locker room, entering the four-digit code into the keypad before I hear the normal buzz of the lock disengaging. The door swings open easily and re-locks as it closes behind me. The room is a lot like the one before, except the floor is a dark grey carpet instead of tile and the lockers are full length top to bottom. A line of deep blue metal cubes that line the outside of the room and stand at about six feet each. Many athletes I know only really use this area as a private space or to keep extra stuff like bags and gear.</p>
<p>I drop my backpack on the floor in front of my locker and wander into a room in the back. It has a small table, a mini fridge, heating and icing equipment, and basic first aid things. This stuff isn’t for the athletes. The teachers also use this area for kids who get injured during class because it has a door that connects it to the main hallway and outside. I don’t need that stuff right now, thankfully. I walk right up to a separate half cabinet and open the door, revealing an old stereo system and some wraps.</p>
<p>Another benefit of the athletes only locker room, we have music.</p>
<p>I grab the cord hanging loosely from the stereo and plug my phone in, the middle of “Moonlight” by XXXTENTACION comes blaring over the speakers. I turn it down so I can hear myself think and contemplate just leaving it to shuffle through all my songs. But, the little voice in the back of my head knows some teacher will walk in, at the just wrong time, on just the wrong song, and I’m not going to be that guy that gets the stereo taken away. I swipe through my phone until I get to a playlist labeled “safe” and hit shuffle. The cord isn’t long enough to take the phone with me, so I place it on top of the stereo, close the door, and make my way back to my locker.</p>
<p>Grabbing a shirt and a pair of shorts that don’t smell too bad, I throw them on and turn to sit between the metal bars of the locker, a pair of socks in my hand. I unfold the fabric, my head already bobbing to the beginnings of Bruno Mar’s “Uptown Funk”. These may be the safer songs for the teachers’ approval, but that doesn’t mean I don’t like them. They’re actually some of my favorites, and I like listening to the playlist when I feel like dancing.</p>
<p>Today seems to be one of those days.</p>
<p>I hop to my feet, now bobbing my body along with the beat as I search for my shoes. I feel electric, shuffling my feet sideways then pausing to add what I feel is sick arm work. It’s not, but I don’t care. I spin around, bracing my hands against either side of the locker as I fall forward, then launch backwards onto the carpet. The beat just seems to flow through me, finding exits in my arms and legs and moving me across the room like it’s the most natural thing in the world.</p>
<p>Lots of people have told me that I should’ve pursued something in music instead of football. But I just can’t see myself doing this for any other reason than to have fun with it. Football is different than dancing. I use football as an escape. It’s a chance for me to clear my head and only focus on one thing, no matter what mood I’m in. Dancing, on the other hand, I really only enjoy when I’m in a good mood. When I’m already frustrated, it just makes me more frustrated. It’s really the reason why it’ll only ever be some hobby of mine.</p>
<p>The song picks up again and I feel myself move, trotting around the room on my toes and playing to an imaginary audience. I add in my arms, like I’m calling people in from the sides before I’m moving again, spinning on my heel and driving my arms through a series of moves I’ve seen in a video a thousand times. As the song comes down to an end, I spiral into little movements, hitting every beat until the song ends. On the final beat, I’m standing in the middle of the room like a dork with my arms crossing over my chest.</p>
<p>“Wow! You’re really good!”</p>
<p>I nearly jump out of my skin at the voice and whip around. I’m met with a strikingly familiar face and brown hair I keep seeing everywhere.</p>
<p>“It’s you!” I almost yelp in surprise.</p>
<p>The guy blinks, his face falling in confusion. “Huh?”</p>
<p>This time I blink, realization dawning on me. “Oh, uh, I think we’ve met? Yesterday in the locker room?”</p>
<p>The guy frowns and shakes his head slowly. “No… I don’t think…”</p>
<p>He suddenly freezes, his eyes blowing wide. “OH! Yes! I remember you. You were wearing that football jersey, right?”</p>
<p>“Yeah.” I feel the relief at finding the right person drain the tension from my shoulders. “I think we bumped into each other.”</p>
<p>I hear him murmur an agreement as I pad into the back room to turn the music down so we can actually hear each other, before making my way back to my locker.</p>
<p>I watch him out of the corner of my eye as I take a seat to put on my shoes. Now that I have a good look at him, he looks to be on the smaller side, standing at what I can only guess is 5’4” or 5’5”, with lightly tanned skin and fluffy, chestnut brown hair. He’s wearing a basketball jersey that seems two sizes too big for him, worn jeans, and bright yellow sneakers. No matter how I spin it, I can’t get rid of the thought that he looks adorable.</p>
<p>“I didn’t think anyone else would be here this early, hence the, um… dancing.” I say to try to break the silence.</p>
<p>“It’s better than I can do.” He smiles and shrugs, padding over to another locker on the other side of the room, but doesn’t put his stuff down.</p>
<p>“It’s my first day here,” he says. “I thought it’d be a good idea to get here early and get to know my surroundings.”</p>
<p>“You’re a transfer?” I ask, genuinely surprised. It’s still the middle of the semester and normally transfers didn’t start until at least after the break if not the next year.</p>
<p>“Yeah, I know it’s a little odd. I had some… troubles in my old school, so we asked to push the transfer sooner.”</p>
<p>I watch as his shoulders slump slightly at the mention, though he recovers well. I can’t help but begin to imagine what could’ve happened at his old school for him to want to push the transfer. Though, if my imagination’s anything to go by, it probably wouldn’t be good to ask something like that to a stranger.</p>
<p>I lean back against the side of my locker, letting my hands dangle in my lap. “Are you an athlete?”</p>
<p>I’d just realized he was in here, the athletic locker room, which had a specific code in order for people to get in. Either a teacher had let him in, which would not be fun if they saw me dancing as well, or he had gotten the code from someone.</p>
<p>“Huh? Oh, no, not yet.” He turns to me, grabbing his backpack straps in both hands. “I was supposed to have a private tryout for the soccer team yesterday that my uncle had set up, before I came today, but we got in a little late.”</p>
<p>“Your uncle?”</p>
<p>“Yeah!” He brightens considerably at the mention. “He’s one of the athletic directors here, so he was a big help in speeding up my transfer.”</p>
<p>“Huh, cool.” I muse, pushing myself to my feet and turning to my locker. I notice he’s still standing around, rocking back on his heels like he doesn’t know what to do with himself. “You… can put your stuff in your locker ya’ know.”</p>
<p>“Um, well-…” He trails off.</p>
<p>I looked over, raising my brow at him. “What?”</p>
<p>He drops his gaze to the floor, shuffling his feet a little. “Well, no one’s really… given me a locker yet.”</p>
<p>He looks so lost in that moment that I feel compelled to grab him, take him under my wing and give him everything he needs. I feel this urge to want to protect him; to make sure his first day goes well; to make sure no one messes with him. I feel the need to introduce him to the guys on the team, and maybe Coach, so he’d know he had friends in us if he couldn’t find any. The feeling is so strong that I don’t know what to say, I’m stuck speechless. No one I’ve met has done this to me before, so it’s quite a new feeling.</p>
<p>“Oh, um-” I cough into my hand to try to gain some semblance of control again and quickly stand, turning to the locker next to mine that’s piled high with bags and other junk. I pick up as many as I can and drop them on the floor in the corner. “Sorry, you can have this one. It’s an extra so we just use it as storage, but you can use it until you get your own.”</p>
<p>He’s very quiet. Thinking something may be wrong I look over my shoulder towards him. His eyes are wide as he stares at me, like he’s about to cry. I pretty much go full panic mode.</p>
<p>“Oh god, I’m sorry!” I scramble for words. “I know it’s not much-, and only if you want it. You don’t have to take it. I’m sorry I probably shouldn’t have said anything-!”</p>
<p>“No!” He dives forwards, wrapping his arms around my middle in a hug. “I’ll take it, please."</p>
<p>I’m fully expecting the whole body, skin crawling, sensation at the sudden display of affection. But it never comes. I’m not really sure what to do now that my normal hasn’t happened, so I wrap my arms awkwardly around him. It’s surprisingly, really nice. He feels good in my arms, and comfortable, like we could just sit like this forever.</p>
<p>I feel him pull back slightly and look down. Out of everyone I’ve met, or dated, I’ve never seen a smile like that. It’s a little lopsided, all teeth and nothing but joy. It’s the most beautiful smile I’ve ever seen, sending a warmth through my chest and spreading a smile across my own face. We finally let go of each other, then set to work clearing out the rest of the junk from the locker. We make jokes about the stuff we find, commenting on how it would never fit anyone we know, and I take anything he thinks he doesn’t need over to a growing pile by the back room.</p>
<p>I end up picking through the lost and found bin in the hallway and find a shirt that will fit him better than what he’s currently wearing. He accepts it gratefully but asks that I turn around while he changes. I find the request odd, since we’re both athletes and are pretty used to getting changed around other people, but I turn anyway.</p>
<p>“Alright, you’re good,” he says after about a minute.</p>
<p>I turn around to find him in a, much tighter, white shirt that does not hide the fact he’s an athlete. I can feel my breath hitch at how much that one thing is affecting me, and it takes nearly all my self-control to not let it show on my face.</p>
<p>What the hell is happening to me?!</p>
<p>“Hey, uh, what’s your name?” I cough, trying to keep my mind distracted and stuffing my hands in my pockets.</p>
<p>He stops and turns to look at me, his face beginning to go pink. “Oh. My. God. That is <em>terrible!</em>” He then burst out laughing, dropping his head into his hands.</p>
<p>I tilt my head, a little surprised at his reaction. “What is?”</p>
<p>“No-no I’m sorry, just lemme-” He cuts off in another fit of laughter, taking a step away from the locker.</p>
<p>I feel a smile creep back across my face, his smile was great but my god, it doesn’t even hold a torch to his laugh. It’s like music that I want to put on repeat for the rest of my life. Though, the feeling doesn’t last for long.</p>
<p>I spot the small foam-roller he’s about to step on long before he does and begin to move towards him. “Hey, look out!”</p>
<p>His laugh cuts off in a high-pitched squeak as his steps on the roller, it shoots out from under him and he loses his footing. I manage to catch him from behind, but I’m not prepared for the momentum and it tips me backwards as well. I wrap my arms around him tight and shut my eyes, bracing for impact. We land with a muffled thump on the floor.</p>
<p>The actual impact doesn’t hurt nearly as bad as I thought it would, thankfully we landed on the carpet and not in a locker or something. I don’t want to imagine how much practice I would be missing if that had happened.</p>
<p>I pick up my head to look over at the other male. He’s laying curled up in my arms with his head tucked into my chest. I have to admit, I’m a fan of this view. I can’t stop my mind from wandering at what it would be like to wake up like this.</p>
<p>He’d be curled up against my chest, like he was now, breathing softly as he slept through the morning. I’d reach over and gently brush a strand of hair away from his forehead to wake him up. I’d watch as he looks up at me with a lazy smile and a soft “good morning”. I don’t realize that my body has actually been following my fantasy until I see he’s looking up at me questioningly.</p>
<p>“Uh-!” I jerk my hand away and scramble for something to say. “You okay...?”</p>
<p>You okay? <em>You okay?!</em> That’s all I can think of to say after practically manhandling him?! I mentally cringe and drop my head back against the ground waiting for the awkward questions or the, straight up just leave. But, instead of a barrage of questions, I hear laughter. I blink, confusion setting into my features, and quickly pick my head up to look at him.</p>
<p>He’s still curled up against me, but his face is buried in my chest as his shoulders shake with laughter. The ridiculousness of the situation seems to hit me, and I begin to laugh as well. I’m laughing until tears are prickling at the corner of my eyes and I’m gasping for breath.</p>
<p>He eventually picks himself up, sitting himself back on his knees, and I prop myself up on my elbows. Both of us trying to calm down our fit of giggles.</p>
<p>“I’m sorry.” He gets out through his giggles, wiping a tear from his eye.</p>
<p>I smile up at him, chuckling. “What for?”</p>
<p>“First the thing with the locker, then I practically flatten you.” He lets out another giggle. “Ah, I’m a mess.”</p>
<p>I push myself up so I’m sitting opposite from him. “Don’t worry, I’ve seen way worse.”</p>
<p>“Really?” He relaxes, a small smile spreading over his face. “I find that a little hard to believe.”</p>
<p>“Oh, just wait until you meet my friend Jake.” I lean forwards, raising a knee up to prop my elbow on it. I miss how close we were a moment ago and some little part of me wants it back. “He had some very embarrassing stories that are a riot to retell.”</p>
<p>He laughs again, covering his mouth slightly with a hand. “Well, I’m excited to meet him.”</p>
<p>“You should be.” I begin to pick at the carpet beneath me, suddenly feeling awkward. “So… Can I get your name?”</p>
<p>He gives me a smile and offers his hand. “I’m Simon.”</p>
<p>“Well then, Simon.” I take his hand. It’s small and thin and I happen to love the feel of it in mine. Which doesn’t come as a surprise anymore. “I’m Connor."</p>
<p>His eyes widen considerably, and he draws his hand away. “Wait, Connor?”</p>
<p>“Um… Yeah?” My brows furrow, worry beginning to spark in my chest.</p>
<p>“Like Connor Rogers? Captain of the football team?”</p>
<p>“Yes…” My voice comes off very wary. Oh god, <em>what</em> has he heard?</p>
<p>Simon practically squeals and crosses the space between us in an instant, grabbing both my hands in his. His face is so close to mine I’m surprised, and of course I’m not going to protest that at this point, but I can also feel the burn in my face, and I know my cheeks must be red.</p>
<p>“I’ve heard so much about you!” He beams, looking down at me.</p>
<p>“Oh <em>god.</em>” I feel my face fall and I let out a groan. “What did you hear?”</p>
<p>“Uh, nothing bad.” He frowns and sits back, but he doesn’t let go of my hands. “I saw you in the halls earlier, and the people I was with just said you’re pretty distant for a popular guy. That you don’t really talk with anyone, other than the Jake you mentioned, and a few others.”</p>
<p>I blink. The distant part wasn’t new, that was actually on purpose, but the popular part was. I’d actually been trying not to be one of the popular squad so I’d have my own space.</p>
<p>My eyes widen, however, as I process the rest of his statement. “Wait, you saw me? When?”</p>
<p>“Oh! Well…” He lets go of me and begins wringing his hands in his lap. “Just before this, I saw you walking down this long hallway at the end of the entrance, and I asked the guys where it led. They said that was the way to the gym, and I had gym next, so I kinda… followed you.”</p>
<p>He quickly continued. “You kinda looked lonely, and I’m a bit of a nosy person and I wanted to see if I could find out why…”</p>
<p>I stare at him in surprise as he trails off, dropping his eyes to his lap. It isn’t that he followed me that surprises me, lord knows I have that happen too many times every day. I guess I now know why. What surprises me was that he thought I looked lonely. I mean, did I? I didn’t think I wore my heart on my sleeve, but I’m usually pretty out of it when I come down here, so I could’ve slipped up.</p>
<p>“I looked… lonely?” I ask, dropping my head slightly so I can see his face.</p>
<p>“No-no! I mean- well, you <em>did.</em> But that was before I saw you dancing and stuff.” He gives me a bright smile as he continues. “You looked so relaxed and so at ease with yourself that I thought I’d followed the wrong person.”</p>
<p>“Ah! That doesn’t make me following you better.” He quickly adds, his hands letting go of mine and waving erratically in front of him. “I’m sorry if me following you made you uncomfortable, and it’s no excuse for spying on you either. That’s probably <em>super</em> weird, I know I’d be freaked out if that happened, but you’re just so interesting that I couldn’t help it-”</p>
<p>“Whoa! Alright, calm down.” I chuckle and lean forwards to place a hand on his shoulder. “It’s alright that you followed me, it’s not the first time it’s happened. I’m actually a little flattered I have such an adoring fan.”</p>
<p>I can’t stop the smirk that spreads over my face as I speak, and I feel his shoulders relax under my hand. He grins, though I can see a little more mischief hiding behind it this time. It’s more relaxed, more open. It’s exactly what I want him to look like. I want him to be calm around me and be able to just be himself.</p>
<p>We both look over at the door as the bell chimes and the sound of people beginning to file into the locker room becomes louder. I blink, realizing music is still playing through the speakers.</p>
<p>“I guess I’d better turn that off now,” I say, beginning to push myself up.</p>
<p>I pause and turn back to Simon, offering my hand to help him up. He grabs it with a big smile and stands up after me.</p>
<p>“You have to teach me some of your moves sometime,” he muses, brushing the carpet bits from his pants. “It was really impressive.”</p>
<p>I let out a laugh and jog over to the back room, quickly unplugging my phone and shutting off the stereo before padding back over to him. “I guess I could show you a few things. Will you be here early again tomorrow?”</p>
<p>Simon beams at me. “If you’re gonna teach me to dance, I’ll definitely come early.”</p>
<p>“Perfect, then it’s a date.”</p>
<p>I can’t stop the words before they’re out of my mouth and I immediately go rigid, watching at Simon looks over at me in surprise.</p>
<p>“N-Not a date, per se-” I quickly backpedal. “But, Y’know like-like a get together or-or a plan… or something.”</p>
<p>Simon’s quiet for a few, time-stretching seconds, before he bounds over to me. I tense up thinking he may hit me for assuming, or just being a dumbass. But instead, he grabs my shoulder with a hand, tilts me sideways, and quickly pecks my cheek. I can only look down at him in shock and blissful surprise.</p>
<p>“No, I like date,” he says, flicking his eyes to the ground shyly before looking back up at me. His cheeks have gone a little pink and he hasn’t let go of my shoulder. I quickly feel my face turn a bright shade of red.</p>
<p>“O-…Okay.”</p>
<p>Simon lets out a laugh and takes my hand, intertwining his fingers with mine. I don’t have much time to think it over though as he’s pulling me back over to our lockers. I can’t help the giggle that slips past my lips at the action. I just feel giddy all over.</p>
<p>I start when I hear the familiar beeps of the lock and snap my head up to the door, my eyes widening in panic. Simon seems to hear them to and quickly spins me around to face my locker, positioning himself beside me so the two guys who enter can’t see our hands still locked together. I hear them behind me as Simon greets them and they exchange pleasantries. It’s like they’re in an entirely different world. I try to look like I’m busying myself with getting something from my locker, but in reality, I can’t stop think about his hand in mine. I feel like my arm is tingling all over. It’s not a bad feeling, new for sure, but not bad. In fact, it makes me want him to touch me more. To see what it would feel like to have his hands on… other places.</p>
<p>The voices begin to fade, and I look up in time to see the two new guys heading out the door. Simon glances back at me, giving my hand a soft squeeze and a big smile that does nothing to calm down the new emotions raging through me. I can see the pink still stuck on his cheeks before he turns and follows the rest of them outside.</p>
<p>I feel light as I hurry to get ready for class. My heart is going a mile a minute at what just happened, and I have to take a few deep breaths to try to calm myself down. I can still feel his touch on my hand, so hot it feels like it’s about to burst into flame. My chest, however, is warm at the thought that—even though it hadn’t been on purpose—Simon had agreed to go on a date with me. I have a smile plastered on my face and my feet tapping to some invisible tune as I jog out after them.</p>
<p>I have a feeling I’m going to have a different distraction at practice today.</p>
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